


A Ministry Event with Harry Potter is Never Complete Without Draco Malfoy

by Deadly_Sirius



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Artist Dean Thomas, Auror Harry Potter, Awards, Battle of Hogwarts, Boyfriends, Dirty Talk, Domestic Boyfriends, Drarry, Established Relationship, Flirting, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Healer Draco Malfoy, Minister for Magic Hermione Granger, Ministry of Magic (Harry Potter), Ministry of Magic event, Pansemione, Pansimione, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, a little bit of, awards ceremony
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-19 14:29:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15511878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deadly_Sirius/pseuds/Deadly_Sirius
Summary: Draco and Harry attend an awards ceremony put on by the Minister of Magic: Hermione Granger. Lee Jordan hosts, a few jokes are made, flirting drarry ensues.





	A Ministry Event with Harry Potter is Never Complete Without Draco Malfoy

**Author's Note:**

> I suck at titles and summaries. Anyways, I’ve been wanting a fic like this for ages and haven’t been able to find one so I wrote it. Er, yeah, that’s it. Enjoy!
> 
> Un-beta’d

The tables were covered in bright white cloth, on top of them sat vases of deep red roses and burning candles ditting high atop peuter molds. Light chatter filled the room, the smell of the flowers and expensive brandy being served swirled together like intoxicarion. The servers, in matching red vests, white shirts and black slacks, whirled past the round tables, handing out small appetizers and more champagne, Madam?

Everyone who was anyone was in the ball-room-turned-event-venue. Reporters dressed up in frilly dresses and charming dress robes. Aurors all around the world came and got the spotlight as they were the ones receiving the awards tonight. The Minister of Magic was trying her best to enjoy the event, and was succeeding, as she was enjoying the night the most she could enjoy work. Her wife stood dutifully next to her in a tight black dress. The cleancut black bob that was expertly cut and styled to have a straight edge along the bottom and perfectly messy bangs did not go unnoticed by photographers. The Minister, in similar styled dress, although red to match the decorations, looked completely different from her wife in such a similar dress. The red flaunted her dark skin, and her bushy frizzy hair was pinned up. Her curves filled the dress spectacularly, and while she was covered, everyone knew how gorgeous she was. Pansy Parkinson-Granger, meanwhile, looked sleek and streamline, her long legs being her accessory for the outfit. Her business partner, Blaise Zabini, renound stylist, stood next to her muttering dirty jokes all night.

Zabini’s presence was revolutionary, as he rarely was seen by the media. He kept a low profile until he wanted to be seen, and when he was, nobody could take their eyes off of him. He was in an all-black suit, the only color was a pop of green eyeshadow on his lids, applied by Parkinson. His partner, the tall lanky redhead, was not dressed as lovely as Zabini wished, but he couldn’t style the man when he didn’t want to be doted upon. Ronald Weasley was wearing a tan suit, thin and long, just like him. Zabini’s short, kinky dadk hair needed no styling after his extensive hair routine, but Weasley’s was gelled back in the front, and pushed up on the sides. Courtesy of Parkinson again, of course.

Reporters for the Daily Prophet, the Quibbler, Witch Weekly, any wizarding magazine or newspaper one could thing of, were conducting hundreds of interviews with the heads of Zabini-Parkinson Co. about their individual lines, namely Parkinson’s new release: Glamour Better than Charms. They were talking with the author of _A Revolutionary Review of Raw Magic_ , they were talking to the captain of Puddlemere United, Oliver Wood, and his equally famous Quidditch husband, Marcus Flint. They didn’t ignore the heads if magical governments from Germany, France, Austria, Italy, Portugal and Spain, all of Europe’s most powerful and educated wizards were at the event. Even the Weird Sisters attended, although their suits and elegant dresses were all black and ripped, their eyeliner and pale makeup caked on. Every top-tier artist, writer, actor or performer in wizarding Britain seemed defiant to ignore the request to attend this night.

And while the room of the most influential people filled more and more, the man of the hour was not seen anywhere. Harry Potter, the Chosen One, the Boy Who Lived, First Class, Order of Merlin, the savior of wizards everywhere, was winning the most prestegious award one could win for not having a steady job. After returning to Hogwarts for his seventh year, he trained to be an auror and finished the program in a year, half the alotted time. After only another year and a half, he was promoted to Head Auror when the previous one stepped down. After eight months in the position, he quit, as he was more unhappy than when he was living in a tent, fightingg for his life against Voldemort. At least then, Harry had said, he felt he had a purpose. In the time he had spent wallowing and failing to figure out his life Hermione Granger, his best friend, had finished school, worked in the Department of Magical Creatures at the Ministry, gained connections, ran and won for the position of Minister of Magic, changed laws for House-Elves and Werewolves, revolutionized the way wizards thought, and got married. 

Potter had been offered a job as Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and every reporter in the room was sitting at the edge of their seat to be the first one to know if he was going to take it. The only thing he had done in the past four years was find his soulmate and cling desperately to the man. Rumor had it he’d taken up art, or gardening. In reality, he waited around all day for Draco Malfoy to come home to their flat from work as a Healer at St. Mungo’s, and occupied his time with visiting friends and their families, giving interviews, modeling for Zabini and Parkinson, even helping out behind the scenes at Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes with Ronald and George.

Here he was, the man everyone wanted to see and praise, with nothing to show for the past four hears besides long hair pulled back into a messy bun, purple dress robes expertly tailored, and a tall blond man in a gray suit with hair light and surprisingly fluffy, as the lack of peoduct in it let it fall softly over his forehead. Harry was happy doing nothing finally, but positively depressed without some mission to be sent on. He had no goals, only to be there for his boyfriend when the man needed him.

Hermione Granger had planned to get married five years after she graduated Hogwarts. She did it two months after. Properly knowing Pansy Parkinson made her head and heart rush, and within eight months of the couple dating, and Hermione being proposed to every day, she finally said yes. Zabini thought they were crazy, but their company’s first exposure was desiging both of the women’s wedding dresses. Ron knew they were right in their decision. They bickered insanely, but they were the smartest people he knew and they loved each other with more fire than anything else. He had thought he and Blaise would have been the first to marry out of his friends, but Blaise was too busy with his designing, and Ron was happy with the way things worked when they were just boyfriends. Rumor had it that Harry had proposed. Rumor also had it that Draco proposed. Rumor also had it that everybody was actually dead and that they were just ghosts, so rumor really couldn’t be trusted, that bitch.

 

”And who have you chosen to present the awards tonight, Minister?”

”As the awards focus on young veterans who have impacted the United Kingdom’s magical community artistically and culturally, it only saw fit to have a wizard who kept us all hopeful and laughing through the tears during the war with his entertaining and secret radio show, Potterwatch, tonight we have Lee Jordan hosting.”

”And here he comes on the stage right now!”

The interview ended as the camera was levitated to point towards the stage at the bottom of the two elegant staircases. Lee came from the left side, stopping in the middle of the stage at a glass panel, hovering above the ground with a microphone attached, charmed of course with Sonorous, and a few sheets of parchment. “Welcome, Ladies and Gentlemen, to the Minsitry of Magic’s Artistic and Cultural Awards Ceremony for Those Who Fought in the Second Wizarding War. Tonight, I’ll be hosting the show, and my name is Lee Jordan. The Minister promised me I’d get an award too, so I’m not sure who’ll be presenting it. I haven’t practiced my choreography of presenting one to myself, and she knows how nervous I get on stage.”

The audience laughed from their seats around the tables at Jordan’s joke. And the night proceeded like usual. Many Wizarding radio stations were broadcasting the ceremony live, while many photographs were taken for news sources in print. Journalists used spelled quills to take down every word of Jordan’s and the winners, while simultaneously taking notes about the atmosphere and the outfits and the food. All of which, of course, was cooked by working house-elves with payed vacation time.

”For the second-to-last award tonight, we would like to warn you all that the upcoming images will be graphic.” On stage, pictures of books winners had written or things they had done were displayed. After Jordan’s announcement the crowd quieted down. “This award, the Impactful Care and Rejuvenation of the Wizarding World Through Arts Award, is going to be presented to a man who fought in the second wizarding war, right alongside myself.”

Lee Jordan had his own award for Protecting the Spirit of the People sitting on his floating glass podium at the end of the night, the one presented by the Minister herself. Parkinson and Zabini had taken the stage after congratulated for their extraordinary cultural effect on wizarding clothes, as they began to mix muggle and wizard styles into beautiful designer clothing. Neville Longbottom received an award for his work in Herbology and the inspiration he alighted in students during his interning under the Herbology Professor at Hogwarts, and later his time as a proper Professor, taking over for her as she decided to retire.

“He was braver than anyone could have imagined. His work inspired so many of us and taught us that what we went through was hell, but it was not the end. He painted and sculpted our pain into a gorgeous installation of the final Battle At Hogwarts on May 2nd, 1998, that was placed in the main floor of the Ministry of Magic. But mainly, this award is presented for the extravagant mural he designed, planned, and painted in the Entrance Hall of Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry.”

An inage of the mural inside the large room flicked onto the screen. Right beyond the large doors was a mural, depicting exactly what happened in the war. It ranged from the bloodied and scarred faces of every person who fought in the battle, with those who died overlooking. Then, it slowly faded into the battle between Harry Potter and Lord Voldemort, red sparks and green ones intertwining. Lastly, it depicted a broken and destroyed castle, slowly rebuilding itself, as everyone had to do for themselves. Many people cried out, tears in eyes as images and faces of those who fought and passed filled the screen. Blaise Zabini squeezed his boyfriend’s hand as images of Fred Weasley were seen in the mural.

”Please, put your hands together as I award Dean Thomas for his Impactful Care and Rejuvenation of the Wizarding World Through Arts tonight.”

Hands were in fact put together and applause ran throughout the room. Dean Thomas, smiled brightly and gave his fiancé a quick kiss on the cheek before jogging up to receive the award. He was wearing a custom, pale blue ruffled dress shirt and gray, blue and white checkered dress pants. The suit jacket he’d been designed was left on the back of his chair as he climbed up the smaller side stairs onto the stage.

”Thank you. Thank you Lee, you were a bright light for all of us. This is a very surreal moment for me, as I never expected my art to win an award such as this. I never created it to be celebrated, I created it so that I, my fiancé, my friends and family, those I didn’t even knew, all of us could fully learn to cope and process the horror we’ve been through. I’d like to thank my family for always giving me a leg to stand on, no matter my blood purity. I would also like to thank the Gryffindor boys in my dormitory at school, who put up with me painting every wall in our room and even being my studies. I’d like to thank Seamus Finnigan, my lover, my sponsor, who made all of this possible. I’ve known him for eleven years now, we’ve been together for six years of it. And I sure as hell can’t wait to marry you next June. Thank you to the Minister, for awarding me this tonight, I’ll always love the righteousness in you Hermione. And thank you to my supplies that let me put them theough hell, as a good artist never blames his tools. Thank you.”

Above the stage, in a small room where Lee had come from, Draco Makfoy swueezed Harry Potter’s hand. “You ready?”

The other man nodded.

”And last but not least, I’d like to present the Award for Inspirational Leadership and Excellent Demonstration of Value to a wizard that needs no introduction. He’s been known since he was barely one for his unknowing sacrifice to vanquish Tom Riddle one fateful night in October, and his knowing sacrifices he’s made since the ripe old age of eleven.” The audience laughed. “The award goes to one Mr. Harry Potter, First Class, Order of Merlin, and previously Head Auror.”

Harry expelled a deep breath and walked carefully down the large staircase to the right of the stage, escorted by Draco Malfoy. He crossed to shake Lee’s hand. “I- erm, I’d like to say thank you. But I very honestly am not sure why I am receiving this award, as there are many people who deserve it more than I do, most of whom are in this room right now. I’d like to, er, thank Ron Weasley for being my best friend to hell and back. I’d like to thank Hermione Granger for keeping us alive. I’d like to thank Rubeus Hagrid for teaching me who I really was. I’d like to thank Mum and Dad, even though I never got the chance to meet _them._ I’d like to thank Neville, Seamus and Dean for being the band of brothers I never had. Erm, thank you to Blaise and Pansy for keeping me stylish, and making my boyfriend even more attractive than legal.”

Draco blushed and swatted Harry’s shoulder as a few whoops and hollers sounded. “I’d like to thank everyone who fought in both wars, even those that did not get recognition tonight. I’d like to hank my godfather, Sirius Black, for showing me what possibilities there are for life. I’d like to thank Remus Lupin for being braver than anyone could ever understand, and for inspiring me to learn and to fight.”

A solemn silence passed for the men who lost their lives in the war. Harry swallowed. “And finally, thank you to Draco Malfoy for being a git all those years, but for saving my life when it mattered most. For seeing who I was, and not who everyone thought I was. For loving and supporting me always, I will continue to do the same with little hope of repaying you of just what you deserve. Thank you, have a wonderful evening everyone.”

 

After Harry’s speach was finished, Lee wrapped up the ceremony aspect of the night. Suddenly, platters filled with food as Harry and Draco took their seats. Their table was decorated with many awards as Dean and Seamus, Pansy and Hermione, and Blaise and rom sat with them. Neville was also there for a bit, but had to say goodnight early so he could make it back for lessons Monday morning.

”That man takes his job too seriously,” Blaise said on the matter.

”I wish you took your job that seriously,” Pansy grumbled.

”Whatever do you mean?”

”I’ve been professionally flirting with people all night, you ought to too!”

”Pansy, darling, I’ve told you time and time again, it’s called networking,” Hermione corrected. Harry chuckled intk his filet mignon.

“You’ve probably gotten enough publicity for the night, what with every important person here wearing your Deathly Hallows line. ‘Inspired by the Second Wizarding War; Elegant and Glamorous, yet Dark and Nostalgic,’” Draco quoted.

”Wow, he even knows our marketing slogans, Zabini teased.”

”It’s not hard when you fuckers plast it everywhere in wizarding London,” Harry points out.

 

Draco later told Harry he had to do some press before they leaved, and although he no longer received ‘but he’s a Death Eater!’ comments, everybody started asking when he was going to propose.

”Well that would ruin the surprise for him, now wouldn’t it?”

”But you are going to get married, correct?”

Harry hummed thoughtfully. “Perhaps. We haven’t spoken about it much yet, we’re too preoccupied with living our loves every day in the present to think about the future to in-depth.”

”I noticed you’ve been staringg at him since the interview began. How much effort is it taking to stay here and talk with me instead of dance to the Weird Sisters with him?”

”A lot.” Harry’s eyes followed Draco’s hips as they swayed to the music with Blaise. “Truthfully, I’m only here because he promised me something when we got home if I ‘did my interviews and was a responsible adult,’ as he put it.”

”May we ask what he promised?”

Harry laughed, his focus finally back on the reporter. “That’s for me to know and you guys to never find out.”

The woman blushed and scribbled something down. Harry went back to watching Draco and answering questions on automatic. Finally, when he got through the cluster of journalists, he said goodbye and quickly found his boyfriend. Draco smiled and pulled him in for a quick kiss before they began dancing to the slow song. Harry could hear the cameras snapping. Draco’s head rested on his shoulder as the danced, one of Harry’s hands in his and the other on his waist. A hand rifled through the hair at the bottom of Harry’s neck and he hummed softly at the touch.

”Why don’t we get out of here?” Harry asked quietly when the sog ended.

”Oh, not yet, doll. This next one is my favorite Weird Sisters tune.” 

Their jackets were shed and thrown over their chairs. They pulled each other onto the dance floor, moving with Pansy and Ron to the beat. Somewhere in the middle of the song, Harry got his hands on Draco’s swaying hips, the blond threw his hands up and around Harry’s neck as his lover chest pressed up to his back.

”I have to thank Blaise, your arse looks too good in these pants.”

”I know, that’s precisely why I wore them,” Draco called out, as if questioning Potter’s sanity. “But in terms of my arse, you’ll just have to wait to see it until we get home.”

”Fuck, Malfoy, you make me want you now,” Harry murmured, kissing down Draco’s neck. The blond smiled softly at the feeling and rested the back of his head against Harry’s collarbone as the pair swayed to the upbeat music.

”Honestly, you two, just get a room,” Pansy called, rolling her eyes as she pushed a hand through her hair and down her neck to the music. Blaise came up from behind, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling the woman in for a quick hug as she let out a squeak. She turned to face him, arms resting on his shoulders as their feet kicked out and moved fast to the Weird Sisters.

”Well, I suppose she’s right,” Draco insinuated to his lover, who was already turned on from Draco’s hips pressed against his. Harry beamed and let Draco lead him off the dance floor and out the door, barely stopping to summon their jackets. On the way out, Harry did manage to remember to thank Blaise, the black wizard shaking his head in response.

The couple’s lips were already locked as they apparated together to their flat from just outside the glass doors to the venue.

**Author's Note:**

> Comment and kudos if you liked it!


End file.
